


cherry flavoured

by midnightcities



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No One Direction, Christmas, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Enemies, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightcities/pseuds/midnightcities
Summary: Christmas. A time of celebration, joy, and cookie-induced food comas. Hazel Shaw needs this holiday season to be the best one yet, but a neighbour by the name of Harry Styles could completely destroy that ideal.An enemies-to-lovers Christmas mini-fic about old mistakes, new prospects, and those cherry flavoured conversations you wish could be forgotten.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. wednesday, 23 december

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy :)

There was just something about seeing a flurry of snowflakes falling fervently that made me feel like Christmas was truly here. London was always a spectacle during the holiday season, with the Trafalgar Square tree standing tall or the criss-cross of twinkling lights down Oxford Street, but seeing snowfall in Holmes Chapel outshone all of that in a heartbeat.

The whole 3 hour drive up towards Cheshire I had been restless, eager to arrive back home. But now I found myself slowing my car, taking in the sights of my hometown as though this was a brand new display. The main square bustled with foot traffic, everyone bundled up in sweaters and beanies, but each person had that slight spring in their step, the falling flakes not a soggy burden but a bright reminder of the celebrations around the corner. I couldn’t help but smile as I trawled past mum and I’s favourite Chinese take-away spot. I caught a glimpse of Mrs Wu in her usual spot behind the counter, talking animatedly to a customer as she always does. St Luke’s stood steadfast on the corner, it’s windows glowing welcomingly against the rapidly darkening sky. It was funny how a lightness seemed to descend upon me just from being back in the place where I grew up.

I picked up the pace again as I pulled out the main strip and continued on towards home. I almost went into autopilot as I navigated the familiar left and rights, and before I knew I was carefully guiding my car into the driveway. I really do love my life in London and have never felt regret about moving some distance away from home. But the absolute gut-punch of homesickness I felt as I stepped out of my car almost made me question why the hell I ever left.

“Mum, I’m here!” I called as I pushed the front door open.

“Oh Hazel,” I heard mum call back. I followed her voice to the living room to the left of the entryway. “Welcome home! I must’ve dozed off, what time is it?” As I entered the room I saw mum gingerly pulling herself off the sofa. She looked frailer than the last time I saw her, it was always hard to tell how she was actually faring physically over Facetime. I quickly stepped over to her, wrapping her up in a hug but also using it as an excuse to properly pull her up without her having to overexert herself.

“It’s so good to see you,” I spoke into her hair. Mum merely ran her hands up and down my back in a comforting nature.

“Let me get a proper look at you,” she pulled me away. “I can see your cheekbones! Have you been eating?”

I laughed. In reality I knew I had put on my usual winter kilos, but I accepted the comment without arguing. “How could I not be eating with your fortnightly box of cookies?”

Her turn to chuckle, “You can also thank Anne for those.”

“You sit back down, I still need to grab my stuff from the car. I’ll make you a cuppa when I get back.”

“Oh, there’s a pasta bake in the fridge. Pop it in the oven if you’re peckish.”

“Sounds good,” I called over my shoulder as I made my way back outside.

The sun had officially dipped below the horizon, plunging the sky into a deep blue. As I unlocked my car, a wash of white passed over me. A car pulled into the driveway adjacent to my own. I immediately recognised it as my long-time neighbours. Just as I lifted my suitcase out of the boot, she stepped out of her own car.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Hazel Shaw?”

“In the flesh!”

“Get over here, it’s been _far_ too long!”

I laughed and carefully stepped around to properly greet Anne. I couldn’t help but smile as she gathered me up in her arms, it made me feel just as at home as I did with my own mother. I have known Anne since I was 4 years old, when mum and I first moved in here, and I can’t recall the number of hours I have spent in her kitchen or back garden or living room whilst growing up. Mum and I are lucky to have someone like Anne in our lives.

“Oh, it is so good to see you Hazel,” she let me go and smiled up at me. “Your mum must be over the moon to have you home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, I think she is.”

“Well it’s only been… what, two years since you’ve been home for Christmas?”

A small flower of guilt bloomed in my chest which I tried to laugh off, somewhat unsuccessfully. “Yeah… Something like that.”

“You know, I was just mentioning to Harry that it had been so long since we’ve seen you.”

My heart skittered at the mention of his name. I had to bite my tongue in order to not let slip that maybe there was a reason that she hadn’t seen much of me as of late. Instead, I tried to play it off with a small shrug of my shoulders. “Well, I better get back to mum. I promised her a cup of tea.”

“Of course, of course! If you’ve got a chance maybe pop by. I’m sure Harry and Gemma would love to see you, it’ll be just like old times.” 

So he was home for Christmas as well. I knew when I told mum I would be coming home this year it would be a high possibility, but knowing that he was going to be just next door for the whole week made me realise I’m probably going to have to come up with some excuse to spend my days holed up inside - which wouldn’t be too hard with the way mum is at the moment.

I nodded somewhat enthusiastically at Anne’s request when in reality I knew I would rather shoot myself in the foot than spend some quality time with said person. I don’t think she caught on to what I was truly feeling though.

As if the gods were truly laughing at me, Anne’s front door opened and out stepped Harry. “Mum, you right? Do you need a hand with the bags?”

“All good, love! I was just chatting to Hazel, come out and say hi!”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I’m pretty sure I drew blood. “Oh, it’s alright Anne. It’s so cold out, I’ll just pop by later.” _Liar_.

“Don’t be silly!” She motioned for Harry to come over. I was actually shocked that he obliged. I guess he has to put on a good face for his mother. 

You probably wouldn’t believe it now but I had once considered Harry to be one of my best mates. Almost all of my childhood memories from age 4 to 18 are tainted with his presence. He poured me my first drink (at age 14 - don’t tell my mum), held me when Will Bailey broke up with me in sixth form, and we would spend every Christmas evening together, exchanging whatever crappy gift we had bought eachother with the little money we had managed to scrounge up. That was always my favourite part of the holidays, now Christmas nights just reminded me of what was gone. There was a reason I haven’t been home for Christmas in 2 years, and his name is Harry.

I watched as Harry shuffled over to where Anne and I were situated. It has been 5 years since I’ve seen Harry this close, and he still looks the same. Well, almost. His hair was definitely shorter. And I could tell that beneath his hoodie he had filled out a lot. I never thought of Harry as a gangly teen, but looking at him now maybe that was an apt term to describe his past self.

“Hello,” he said somewhat gruffly.

I plastered on as best of a smile as I could manage, “Hi.”

Anne didn’t seem to even notice the awkwardness between us. “I’ve just told Hazel she needs to pop by sometime, when’s the last time you two have hung out?”

“Oh... That would be years, right Hazel?” Harry’s tone shifted to one that was absolutely dripping with sarcasm. There was the Harry I’ve come to know of in recent years.

Instead of hitting back, I decided to keep it sweet. I was only home for a short time and the last thing I wanted was Harry ruining my time here. “You’re right, about five if I recall.”

He raised his eyebrows, maybe surprised that I didn’t take his bait.

“Well, how about tomorrow night for some Christmas Eve drinks?” Anne chimed in, again completely oblivious to the true nature of our exchange.

“I’ll have to check with mum.” This was the honest truth. I’m sure mum had planned a multitude of activities for my time at home. We always had to play things by ear though, never knowing how she would be feeling when the time came.

Anne nodded, “Of course, just let me know. Or Harry.”

“Sure. Well, I _really_ should get back now. Mum’s probably thinking I’ve slipped on some ice or something.”

“Oh true, be careful! Harry, maybe help her with her suitcase.” Anne gestured to my bag which was still sitting by the boot of my car.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” I was desperate to be rid of him now.

“I’m sure he would rather help you than lug in my ten bags of shopping. Have a good night Hazel, I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” Without another word Anne turned and began unloading her own car, leaving Harry and I staring at each other rather dumbly.

“It’s okay, I’ve got my bag. You don’t need to come up with some excuse to go,” I said quietly once Anne had taken the first lot of bags inside her house.

Harry snorted, “If I don’t help you I won’t hear the end of it from my mum.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; did it just take a request from his mother for Harry to suddenly become chivalrous. Instead of responding, I turned and made my way back to my car. 

Just as I was about to grab my bag, Harry’s arm jutted forward, his hand wrapping around the handle before I had a chance to, “I said I was going to do it.” 

I suddenly became aware of how close he was to me, his front just centimeters away from being pressed into my back. I kept my face forward, the last thing I wanted was Harry to see my now flaming cheeks. I merely cleared my throat and continued on walking to my front door. I could hear his steps not far behind.

Once I reached the door, I finally turned around. “Thank you,” I somehow managed.

He dropped my bag unceremoniously next to me, his face completely blank. “Anything for Hazel, right?”

I knew it was another dig, he was purposefully poking around to get a rise from me. I forced myself to breathe deeply, willing myself to not fall into his trap. “Goodbye, Harry,” I said simply. I picked up my bag, opened my front door, stepped in, and closed the door quickly. Immediately, I felt relieved. That wasn’t the first time I’ve purposefully shut the door on Harry while he was standing on my front step.


	2. thursday, 24 december

When I agreed with mum to come home for Christmas I figured I was signing up for nights watching our usual favourite Christmas movies, baking a batch of cinnamon sugar cookies, and copious amounts of cups of tea. I definitely didn’t expect to be standing on the doorstep of Harry Styles’ home - with a plate of the aforementioned cookies - having willingly made the choice to spend an evening with him. I suppose ‘willingly’ can be used lightly in this circumstance.

It was all mum really. I had forced myself to wake up extra early in the morning, set on preparing breakfast for the two of us. Of course though, she was already awake. The meds did always make it hard for her to sleep for long periods, but she made up for it with regular naps throughout the day.

“What are you doing up so early?” She was sitting at the dining table, nursing her first cup of tea for the day.

“Well, I was planning on surprising you with breakfast in bed,” I spoke as I walked over to give her a small hug.

She squeezed my arm, “I never liked eating my breakfast in bed anyways. Too many crumbs. I won’t say no to a piece of toast though. Eaten here at the table, preferably.”

I laughed but happily began working on her request. “So, what’s the plan for today?” I asked once the toast was on and my own cup of tea was brewing.

“Baking?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Anne mentioned some Christmas Eve drinks,” she said quite casually. Even though my back was to her I could imagine the look on her face. Mum knew rather little about what happened between Harry and I - just enough to make it clear that I had no interest in seeing or talking to him any longer. This never deterred her though, she was always trying to manufacture some situation that forced Harry and I to be together in the same room. It was part of the reason why I had stopped coming home for Christmas. So I knew exactly what she was thinking by bringing up Anne’s offer from last night.

“Oh, did she?” I tried to play dumb.

“It might be nice for old times sake, I remember when you would beg to see Harry every year on Christmas night!”

I sighed, turning to face her once more. She held a sad smile on her face. “That was a long time ago. Anyways, I came home to spend time with you, not them.”

“We are allowed to spend time together with some other people around, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, “Let’s just wait and see how you feel this evening.”

I hadn’t even properly agreed but mum was practically beaming for the rest of the day. How could I say no when she brought it up again later on? When it came to after dinner though I could tell she was putting on a brave face, but her eyes had the telltale glassiness of fatigue and I knew there was no point in pushing her to come out. I told her I would still go, anything to keep her smiling.

“It’ll just be like old times, back when things were happy,” was the last thing she said to me as I gave her a hug and wished her goodnight. It made my heart twinge - if she considered that long ago as happier times, what did the last few years count as?

So, here I was standing somewhat rigidly trying to gather the courage to knock on Harry’s door. Half of me was hopeful that he wasn’t even going to be home tonight - perhaps he had made some better plans - but the rational side of me knew that Anne wouldn’t let him miss tonight. Finally, when I could start to feel the cold seeping past my thick layers of clothing, I raised my hand and knocked.

I heard the familiar clunk of the lock and the door creaked open, a sound I had heard probably hundreds of times. Thankfully I was greeted by Gemma, not him.

“Hazel! My god, it’s been forever!” She was quick to wrap my up in a hug, well as best as she could with a plate of cookies between us. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” I replied. I had almost forgotten that by essentially cutting out Harry from all aspects of my life I had also lost connection with everyone else in his family. Yes, Harry and I were obscenely close growing up because we were the same age, but there were some things in life that warranted the need of a female. And Gemma was always that go-to person for me. 

“Come in, come in. It’s so cold out.” She took the plate from my hands before locking the door up behind me. I followed her through to the living room to see Anne adjusting one of the decorations on their Christmas tree.

“Hi Hazel,” she said warmly. She too greeted me with a hug, which I gladly accepted.

“Sorry, mum couldn’t make it. She was feeling pretty tired. But she sends cinnamon sugar cookies in lieu.”

“You don’t need to apologise! I completely understand,” Anne spoke gently, a small but sad smile forming on her lips. It was funny, I noticed that whenever anyone spoke about my mum they showed the exact same look and spoke in the exact same tone. It was as if they thought the gentler they spoke to me the better I would feel. Unfortunately, no soft words are going to fix the reality of having a dying mother.

Instead of voicing my thoughts, I just nodded mutely. I was happy for the conversation to move quickly past mum.

Thankfully, Anne didn’t dwell on the matter. “Let me make you a drink!”

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’m happy with just water.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anne said incredulously, “it’s Christmas Eve! We need to have something special.”

“There’s no getting out of this one Haze,” Gemma chimed in before linking arms with me and leading me over to the sofa. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her sentiment, Anne did always have a way of insisting upon her own agenda.

“So… where’s Harry?” I asked as innocently as possible. It was pretty hard to not notice his absence, the lack of dramatic sighs and scoffs for one.

“Oh he’s upstairs. He claimed he had some last minute work to do but I think he’s just being a snob. I mean, whose boss sends work to do on Christmas Eve.”

I couldn’t help but agree with Gemma’s deduction, but I kept silent. While Harry was happy to let his true feelings show about certain situations, I preferred to keep things on the downlow.

“Here we are!” Anne bustled back into the room, toting a tray laden with drinks and various nibbles. 

Gemma quickly jumped up, grabbed two glasses and passed one to me. “What did you make?”

“Cherry vodka sours. I remember you kids used to down these like no tomorrow, thought it would bring back some fun memories!”

She was right, for some reason it was mine and my friends drink of choice in our mid to late teens. I think I vaguely remember one of the girls sneaking a bottle of grenadine from her parents stash for some get together, and of course vodka was the only appropriate thing we had to mix with it. But after that night someone always made sure to bring the grenadine to any future events.

“God, I haven’t had one of these in years!” Gemma exclaimed, eagerly taking her first sip. “Ah yes, takes me straight back to my early uni days.”

“Same,” I echoed, also taking a sip. The sweet but tangy flavour was instantly familiar, if I closed my eyes I could just picture myself at age 17 sitting thigh-to-thigh with some boy doing my best impression of a ‘cool girl’. It’s funny to think back on how grown-up I felt at the time.

“Where’s your brother?” Anne questioned, as she finished laying out the spread of snacks she had prepared.

“Still upstairs,” Gemma replied.

Anne rolled her eyes before going over to the stairs to call up to him, “Harry, we have guests. Get down here now!”

My hand tightened around my glass, there was definitely going to be no avoiding him tonight. I gulped down some more of my drink, liquid courage as some would say.

Harry slinked into the room just as Anne sat down on the sofa opposite from Gemma and I. I hated my automatic physical reaction to seeing him: my heart beating considerably faster, my palms becoming slick with perspiration, my stomach feeling like it was about to drop out from inside me. Today he wore an oversized brown jumper with bottle-green trousers, which on any other man would look ridiculous, but of course he pulled it off with ease. I really hated that.

“Finally,” Anne said with a slight glare, “Hazel is here. Did you even say hello?”

Harry grabbed his drink that Anne had placed on the coffee table and flopped into the last available seat next to his mum. “Hazel,” he murmured, raising his glass in an almost toast and then downed half of it. He kept a steady gaze on me, like he was challenging me to say something that he would be able to snap back at. Instead, I mirrored his actions with a sickly sweet smile.

I watched as his face screwed up in distaste, “Is this a cherry vodka sour?”

“Yes,” Anne replied brightly, “you just missed the girls and I reminiscing about your teenage days. You lot would drink them all the time.”

“I think I’ll just grab myself a beer,” Harry returned the glass to the table, a discernible look of disgust still clear on his face.

“Oh sorry love. You did use to always drink them, I didn’t think you would object.”

“Yeah, well maybe there’s a reason why I stopped,” Harry’s eyes flickered over to me. I felt my heart jump; was he referring to what I thought he was? Harry quickly stood up and left the room - to get that beer I suppose - before I even had a chance to comment on his statement. Maybe that was for the better.

“Always the cryptic one, isn’t he,” Gemma said with a small laugh. 

I hummed in agreement. I was unsure if Gemma knew the extent of what happened between Harry and I, and I definitely didn’t want to divulge more details when Anne was sitting right there. 

Thankfully, Anne launched into a conversation about what she was planning on making for Christmas lunch. Harry did eventually return, beer in hand. I tried to keep steady focus on Anne, laughing and providing timely comments as to what she was saying. But the whole time I could just feel Harry’s gaze on me. I knew he was thinking of that night, I knew he was hoping for me to bring it up - probably so he could start to spout off some bullshit about how it’s all my fault things ended badly. But it was more than 5 years ago, I have most definitely moved on. Shouldn’t me being the same room with him be evidence of that?

Somehow Anne had gotten us to down three rounds of drinks. Harry remained civil throughout, even willingly joining in on some conversation. However, he still avoided my gaze at all costs or would send me looks so cold they rivaled death himself. 

After I insisted that I couldn’t bring myself to have a fourth round, Anne excused herself to prepare some tea for us. I don’t know who fished them out, but suddenly Gemma was armed with a stack of old photo albums and demaned we inspect them all.

Gemma took great pleasure in laughing at each of Harry’s baby photos, particularly the bowlcut era of the mid 90s. I myself was quite surprised to see how many photos I featured in. It almost seemed foreign to think of all the memories we all shared together.

“Oh god, remember this?” Gemma promptly shoved the photo album she was flicking through into my face. “The Haze and Haz Show,” she said with a laugh.

I couldn’t help but mirror her own laughter as I took in the old photograph. It was of Harry and I, circa 2001, complete with feather boas and our mums' too big sunglasses along with the cardboard sign we had carefully crafted touting the new talent show we had created. “Geez, I can’t believe this was almost 20 years ago.”

“Lemme see,” Harry suddenly piped up. Instead of waiting for me to pass the photo to him, he decided to shove himself in the basically non-existent space between Gemma and I.

“Christ, Harry. Lay off the mince pies, yeah?” Gemma grunted whilst doing her best to shuffle over as much as she could. 

I did the same, but it didn’t do much good. Harry and I were pressed together; thigh to thigh, arm to arm. We had suddenly gone from cold glares across the room to having an alarming amount of contact points. And it didn’t help that my brain rustled up the memory of the last time we were this close - thank god we had considerably more clothing on this time.

Harry plucked the photo that I was still clutching in my left hand out of my grip and began to study it. He chuckled, the rumble of his laugh ricocheting across my own body.

“I remember we had insisted on our families sitting through all 5 acts we had practiced,” he said with a quick glance over to me.

“And I remember one of them being a pretty dreadful rendition of _...Baby One More Time_ ,” Gemma offered.

“Hey, that was Hazel’s fault,” Harry shot back with a small pout.

“Pretty sure all I offered for that act was some back-up vocals, rest was all on you,” I said with a sly grin, my head turning slightly towards him.

Surprisingly, Harry met my gaze and even mirrored my own smile. I could see the haziness of memories long-forgotten dance behind the green of his eyes. It was nice to see some form of happiness in there rather than the usual coldness they were when directed towards me. But the second I let myself indulge in them, he returned to his usual icy demeanour. Clearly he remembered who he was looking at.

“Look at this one,” Gemma redirected the attention back on herself, not showing any sign of seeing the silent exchange between Harry and I.

Anne eventually bustled back in with the tea and the cookies giving Harry the chance to peel away from Gemma and I and back to where he was originally situated. I gulped down the tea fairly quickly, conscious that it was getting pretty late.

I refused another offer from Anne for _another_ drink before announcing that I really had to get going.

“It was great to catch up with you, love,” Anne enveloped me in a hug.

“You too,” I spoke once she let me go.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Gemma threw her arm around my shoulders, pulling us cheek to cheek.

I merely laughed, “I’ll be sure to pop in again before I go back to London.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

I knew I couldn't leave without acknowledging him. He was standing on the staircase as though he was going to bolt back upstairs the second I left. “Bye, Harry,” I offered meekly.

He opened his mouth to reply but Anne jumped in, “Harry, walk her home.”

He gaped slightly, “Mum--”

“That’s ok, it’s literally a minute walk,” I added quickly.

“Why not?” Gemma said, “He didn’t have a problem doing it every time you came over back in the day.” Was that a glimmer of mischief in her eye?

“Plus it’s been sleeting. You both know how slippery the drive can get,” Anne held a tone that said there’s no point in arguing further.

Harry exhaled so forcefully that I was surprised a wad of snot didn’t come flying out. He trudged down the stairs and grabbed his coat from the hook. Once he was sufficiently bundled, he motioned towards the door. I opened it for us, giving Anne and Gemma one last wave goodbye. 

I stepped down the small step and out into the snow, unsure if I should wait for Harry or just continue walking on. I heard the front door click shut and the crunch of Harry’s footsteps quickly following, meaning I didn’t even have to decide. We had probably made this walk a thousand times but I couldn’t think of a time where it was clouded with an air of both awkwardness and chagrin.

We both walked carefully around Anne’s car and onto the path leading to my own driveway. “I think I got it from here,” I turned to face Harry, sick of this weird ritual we were seemingly completing.

His face was flushed already from being in the cold, and his eyebrows were knitted together as he processed my words. “Blowing me off again?” he said somewhat bitterly.

“What difference does it make? We’re walking like we are in some funeral march. I’m not going to think any better of you if you walk me up to my doorstep or not?” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. They felt harsh, especially after we had a somewhat civil evening in each other's presence.

Harry’s face fell blank, a shadow of a frown brushing across his lips. It surprised me that he was standing in silence rather than spitting back some spiteful response. 

Instead of giving him a chance to formulate a retort, I turned on my heel and began marching to my front door. Suddenly, I felt my right foot slide out from under me. The echo of Anne’s earlier warning rang in my ear as my body flew backward. I tried to steel myself as best I could for the cruel contact the concrete was going to provide but instead found myself landing on something considerably softer. I let out a gasp as my body jolted to a stop and found myself eye-to-eye with an upside-down Harry.

“Shit, you alright?” He said in a slightly panicked voice. 

Harry had somehow caught me, his arms wrapped protectively across my middle as he held me mid-fall. I nodded dumbly and he carefully uprighted me, his hands still gripping my arms tightly. He kept close, as though he was unsure I would fall again. If he bent down just a little, our noses would touch. 

And all in an instant I was back five years ago, Harry gripping me firmly, eyes centimeters away and the taste of his lips clouding my mind. I knew I could lean forward now, taste him again, have that feeling of euphoria once more.

Instead, I whispered out a thank you.

“Cherries…” he mumbled back.

“Uh… sorry?”

He blinked, as though he just realised he had spoken out loud. “You… You smell like cherries.”

I laughed, trying to break the tension that had suddenly wrapped around us. “Probably those drinks your mum made. You know, the ones you apparently hate? I don’t remember you hating them in sixth form.”

His grip loosened and slowly fell away. My attempt had worked I guess.

“Thank you,” I said again when I gathered he wasn’t going to respond.

He nodded once, his face unreadable.

Again, I turned on my heel, this time taking extra care to walk slowly. Just as I was about to shove my key into my front door, Harry called out.

Turning back, I saw he was still standing in the same place.

“They remind me of you,” he said just loud enough for me to make out. “I don’t like drinking them because all it does is make me think of you.”

My mouth dried as I processed his words. I knew I wasn’t imagining things earlier when he mentioned he didn’t drink cherry vodka sours anymore. It took me at least two years before I could even smell grenadine without thinking of our last night together.

Before I could voice what I was thinking - that god damn night in July - he had turned and was walking back to his home. But instead of chasing after him, I let him go. I had learnt my lesson once. I didn’t need to be let down by Harry once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays! hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	3. friday, 25 december

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief description of a seizure

Alcohol the night before Christmas is never a good idea if you want to have a good night sleep. Pair that with a boy who you once upon a time thought you could be in love with admitting to something relatively shocking, then you’re definitely not in for a good night sleep.

My alarm chirped happily at seven and I unhappily dragged myself out of my cocoon of comfort. I don’t think I had roused myself this early on Christmas morning since I was 10 years old, but I wanted today to be perfect. Normally, mum would take on the duties of preparing Christmas Day but I had insisted on her taking as much rest as she needed. It was my turn to take charge. I promptly forced all lingering thoughts about last night to the back of my mind and began to get on with the day. 

Once downstairs I busied myself with arranging our presents under the tree, switching on the Christmas lights, and setting the table for our traditional Christmas breakfast. I grabbed the supplies I had stashed in the cupboard earlier and got to work on our breakfast gingerbread house. 

I knew to many it would seem pretty silly that we indulge on something so sweet for breakfast, but it was our tradition. As a kid, I was always half excited to see the presents under the tree and half excited to see what gingerbread monstrosity my mum had created. Some notable mentions include the 30cm lighthouse she had somehow erected in 2005 and her infamous attempt at the Buckingham Palace in 2011. This year, we would have to do with a simple house though. Time constraints meant I had to use a simple store-bought kit.

It was just past half nine when I put the finishing touches on the gingerbread house and I finally called up to mum, telling her she was permitted to come downstairs to begin our festivities.

“Happy Christmas, mum!”

“Happy Christmas, Hazel.”

I immediately wrapped mum up in a hug once she had fully descended the stairs. Both of us held on a little longer than we normally would.

“This looks fantastic!” Mum beamed.

It was nothing compared to what mum used to do back in the day but I appreciated the sentiment. I pulled mum over to the sofa and we began exchanging gifts, both of us laughing at how we seemingly got all the gifts so perfect for once. After the wrapping paper had been stashed away, I proudly brought out my gingerbread creation. The roof was barely hanging on and I had to make extra icing in order to hold the walls up, but all in all it was a decent effort. Mum had the honours of smashing the whole thing apart and we both dug in, a full pot of tea accompanying our sweet escapade.

It was almost midday. We had packed the remains of the gingerbread house away before we made ourselves sick and we had both donned our garish Christmas jumpers. I had set mum up with some corny Christmas movie that was on Netflix whilst I busied myself with preparing our lunch. A typical roast dinner, but for lunch obviously.

“Are you feeling hungry yet? I think the food is pretty much ready,” I peered into the oven, the golden skin of the chicken confirming my suspicions. I gave the mashed potatoes on the stove another stir, making sure it wasn’t getting gluggy at the bottom.

“Mum?” I called over my shoulder again.

I turned around, finding her lack of response strange.

She was standing rigidly near the dining table, her right hand clasped over her mouth. Her gaze was fixed on the wall.

“Mum…” I felt my heart leap into my throat. I had seen this before. I dropped the wooden spoon I was holding and immediately walked over to her.

In the six steps it took for me to get to her, it all happened. The glass I didn’t even realise she was holding fell from her left hand and shattered. She crumpled and fell, knees collapsing beneath her. That guttural groan I had hoped I would never have to hear again. Eyes rolling. Jaw locked. Shaking. Jerking. She was having a seizure.

I dropped to my knees beside her, rolling her onto her side as best as I could. I checked her airway like the paramedic had shown me last time. It was clear thankfully. With surprisingly steady hands, I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and dialled 999.

It didn’t even feel like it was me speaking. A voice so even and calm couldn’t possibly be coming out of my mouth right now. I relayed the personal details with ease, told the lady on the other end of mum’s condition without a stutter over the big medical words. Who am I?

“Paramedics are on their way to you now. You’re doing a great job, love.”

I blinked. Mum had stopped shaking, but her eyes were still closed.

“They should be right outside love,” the call takers voice interjected. 

I thanked her and hung up, mystified at how they had arrived in seconds. When I looked down at my phone screen I realised that the phone call had been going for more than five minutes. I blinked again. Blue flashing lights slicing through the living room blinds. A firm knock at the door.

I was walking underwater. My legs were not moving fast enough. I held my arms out as though I was about to lose balance. I made it to the door, let the paramedics in. 

Now I was sitting on the sofa. Look at me. Take a breath. Tell me what happened. How long was she out? You did a great job. She’s going to be okay. 

“Hazel?!”

I was pulled out of the water. My senses ignited, the scene before me truly unfolding. Two paramedics, one assessing mum and one crouched before me. I could hear a steady beeping, mum’s heart on the monitor I’m assuming. And Harry. He was standing in the doorway, eyes wide with horror. Anne and Gemma were behind him, with similar looks of panic. They were all wearing those crappy paper Christmas hats.

And it was as if that’s what tipped the scale. It was Christmas day. My mum just had a seizure. I burst into tears.

I launched myself off the sofa and towards Harry. He had already begun moving towards me so he caught me immediately. I sobbed horribly into his jumper, my chest heaving and throat almost instantly becoming raw as I let it out. I cried for Christmas Day being ruined. I cried for the pain my mum has had to endure. I cried for the fact that mum would most likely not be here this time next year. I cried for my mum being diagnosed with glioblastoma at the age of 52.

“You’re okay…” Harry continually whispered into the top of my head, his hand rubbing circles on my back. I clinged to him like he was the only thing to keep me afloat right now.

I wasn’t sure how long we had been embracing, but I eventually calmed down. I carefully pulled my head back from his chest, bringing my arms away from his waist to rub my eyes clear. He kept his arms locked around me though, like he wasn’t sure if I was ready to be let go. I was glad he kept them there.

“You’re bleeding,” he said worriedly.

“Oh…” I looked at my hands and realised he was right. I must’ve leant on the glass when I was beside mum. As soon as I realised the cuts were there, I felt the throb of pain. “I think… I might’ve gotten blood on your jumper…”

“Wha--” Harry spluttered, like he was lost for words. “I-- I do not give a fuck about that! Come here.” He pulled me back over to the sofa.

I took the moment to glance around the room. Anne was talking to the paramedic. Gemma was distributing glasses of water. And then there was Mum, sitting up on one of the dining table chairs. She looked so tired, but despite that, when I met her gaze she sent me a smile. It was the same look she gives me after every medical episode she’s had in the last year. It was her way of saying all was fine, no need to worry. What she didn’t realise was that all I had been for the past year was a pit of worry.

“Is it alright if you check to make sure there’s no glass in the cuts?” Harry’s gruff voice pulled me back in the moment.

“Of course,” the paramedic bobbed down in front of me and asked to see my hands.

Harry immediately took up the space beside me, his arm snaking around my waist once more. I leant into him almost automatically. I didn’t care that it felt so right to be like this with him. I didn’t care that he pressed his lips to the top of my head when the disinfectant the paramedic applied caused me to wince. I especially didn’t care that he kept me entwined with him even after the paramedic had finished tending to the cuts.

“We’re gonna take her upstairs,” the other paramedic addressed me a few minutes later. “Her vitals are good and we’ve given some pain relief for the headache she's sporting. Seeing as this isn’t her first seizure we don’t need to bring her in. But if anything changes in her condition, ring and we’ll come straight back.”

I nodded mutely and despite my protesting heart, I pulled myself up and out of Harry’s arms.

“It’s alright Hazel,” Anne jumped in quickly, “you stay there and I’ll show them where your mum’s room is.”

“No, it’s okay,” I finally found my voice. “You’ve done so much already, I don’t need to spoil your Christmas anymore.”

“Hazel… Don’t say that…”

“Please, go back to your Christmas lunch. I promise we’re okay now.”

I could tell Anne wanted to fight me on this but Gemma grabbed her mum’s hand and began leading her towards the door.

“Thank you…” I said quietly as they passed. Anne pulled me into a hug, whispering that I could call if I needed anything.

Harry stood from the sofa, his expression somewhat unreadable. As suddenly as I had felt at ease with him, it all slipped away and I felt the frostiness of our current relationship seep back in. I had broken down in front of and clutched onto the man that I had promised myself five years early that I would have nothing to do with anymore. How do you move past that?

“I… Uh-- Thank you, as well,” I said lamely.

It looked like he was about to say something in response, but instead he swallowed thickly. Clearly, the moments we had shared earlier have officially passed.

I motioned to the paramedics to assist bringing mum upstairs. I knew the Styles’ would be able to show themselves out. I tried not to wince each time mum took a laborious breath as she came up the stairs. However, I felt a strange lightness when they finally settled her in the bed.

I thanked the paramedics profusely, which they accepted graciously. They promised to close the front door behind them, urging me to stay with mum for a bit to make sure she’s comfortable.

“I’m so sorry Hazel,” mum spoke as soon as they left.

I went and sat beside her. “Please don’t apologise, you can’t control these things.”

“Yes, but I know how much effort you had put into today. You deserve to have a special day.” A soft but sad smile graced her features. I knew she was skirting around the big issue that we always tried to avoid. The impending end that her diagnosis was going to bring. 

“We have lots of time for a special day,” I said quietly, bringing her hands into my own. “And even if we don’t… I am so thankful for the countless ones we’ve already had. Never feel guilty that you’re taking something away from me.”

Mum’s eyes turned glassy with emotion. She tugged on my hands, signalling that she needed a hug. 

“Get some rest,” I spoke after pulling away a few seconds later. “Maybe we can still have some Christmas dinner if I can salvage the chicken.”

She laughed but agreed. I wanted to stay and watch her fall asleep - to be sure - but she assured me that she felt fine and told me to go. I begrudgingly agreed.

Carefully, I closed her bedroom door and walked gingerly back downstairs. I knew I needed to clean up the mess. And try and rustle up something edible for us.

“Is she alright?”

“Jesus Christ!” My heart almost leapt out of my chest at the unexpected sounding of a voice. Harry was standing in my kitchen, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in what looked like concern. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay… And your mum. Is she?”

I was shocked that Harry hadn’t left. After what had happened earlier I was sure he would’ve wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. “Uh… yeah. She seems to be,” I managed to get out, “she’s just resting at the moment.”

“Good, good,” he said softly. I kept forgetting what it was like to have him talk to me like this, like we were before.

“You cleaned up,” I noticed that the shards of glass had been surreptitiously swept away and the floor wiped clean of any evidence of what had happened. I suddenly felt my throat tighten and that telltale pinch behind my eyes. Harry had literally held me together a mere hour earlier and yet this small act of kindness was sending me over the edge again. I didn’t want Harry to see me like this once more. I quickly walked over to the cupboard to grab a glass and filled it with water from the sink.

“Least I could do,” he replied, seemingly not noticing my change in demeanor. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t save your chicken. Mum made you both a plate though from our leftovers, I put them in the fridge. I can heat it up for you if you’re hungry now…”

He was being so nice. It felt so jarring. One day he was all eye rolls and words filled with venom, and the next he was offering to get me food. With the absence of my earlier heightened emotions, his sudden concern felt like he was trying to portray some act.

“I’m alright for now,” I finally spoke after a few beats of silence. I turned from the sink to face him again. His eyes held that look of pity - poor girl with a sick mum. I hated it.

“Okay then… Do you wanna just watch a movie then? Get your mind off things?”

It was like a switch had flipped in my mind. I had enough of fake niceties and acts of kindness formed out of pity. I slammed my glass down onto the counter, water sloshing out the side. “God, why are you here?” I said sourly.

“What? I told you, to make--”

“To make sure I’m okay, yeah, I heard that. But why do you even care?”

I watched Harry’s gaze harden. “You… Seriously? What is your problem? I’m trying to do the right thing.”

I clenched my hands into fists, my nails pressing deep into the palms of my hands. I was desperately trying to prevent myself from exploding at him. “Why? Cause you feel sorry for me?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then why do the right thing now? After all these years?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief and began to pace across the floor. He ran his hands through his hair. “You know, a thank you would be nice,” he spat after a few moments.

“A thank you? _A thank you?_ ” I could feel my face heating up, not in embarrassment but in anger. It was getting harder and harder to keep it together. “You should be thanking me!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“For helping you to get back with your girlfriend.”

Harry stopped in his tracks and faced me, eyes wide in bewilderment. “Hazel, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” His frustration was palpable as he threw his hands up in the air. “I thought this was about your mum!? Or me apparently helping you too much today.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. I forced myself to take three deep breaths. I reopened my eyes to see Harry staring at me expectantly. 

“It’s about the fact that we have barely spoken to each other for the past five years and now you expect us to sit on the sofa and watch some bloody movie?” I said in a surprisingly even tone.

“It’s not my fault we haven’t spoken in the last five years,” he replied icily.

“Excuse me…”

“I’m sure you remember the last summer before uni?” Harry crossed his arms across his chest, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“How could I forget,” I said darkly. I could feel that my hands were shaking ever so slightly.

“So you remember that--” he swallowed thickly, “--that last night.”

I nodded mutely. This was the first time we had ever spoken of _that_ night.

“So then you definitely must remember how you moved across the country the next day without saying goodbye to me and have ignored me since.”

My mouth fell open. That is _not_ what happened. My body flushed as I tried to process what Harry was telling me. Memories of that night flooded back, it had been so long since I had allowed myself to think of them. 

I remember the heat - we had been suffering through a heat wave all week. Someone from our form was having a final hurrah before we all went off to uni. Harry and I went together - as we always did - and we drank. A lot. Those god damn cherry vodka sours. As we stumbled home, he kissed me. I’ll never forget the look that clouded his eyes when he pulled away. And next thing I knew we were in his bed, all fervent mouths and quiet moans.

“You slept with me,” I spoke as I finally pulled out of my reverie, “and the very next day run right back into the arms of Lucy, who you told me you had ended things with…”

I watched as Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in what looked like confusion.

“All I was to you was a quick fuck to help sort out your feelings,” I said quietly. It had taken me a long time to accept the truth of Harry’s actions but admitting it outloud was almost harder. A tear suddenly slipped down my face. I hadn’t even felt myself well up.

“So yes,” I continued on when I realised Harry was just going to keep staring at me with a look of dumbfoundedness, “I did leave for London without saying goodbye. But I think I had a pretty good reason to.”

Harry continued to stare at me, his eyes wide. I waited a further few seconds, expectant of a response, but nothing came.

“I think you should leave,” I finally spoke.

He didn’t move.

“Fine then,” I stormed past him not even taking care when my shoulder careened into his own. Just as I was about to climb the stairs, I felt his hand around my wrist. He pulled me to a stop.

“I wasn’t talking to Lucy to get back with her. I was telling her… that she was right.” His voice was raspier than earlier.

I begrudgingly turned to face him, “Right about what?”

“She was the one who actually ended things…”

“What? You told me you did.”

“I know, I didn’t want you to know the real reason why she broke up with me.”

I raised an eyebrow, “And what was the real reason?”

Harry drew in a shuddering breath, “She thought… Well she insisted on the fact that I was actually in love with you.”

It felt like someone had sucked all the air out of lungs. My vision swam for a moment. I placed my left hand on the wall as though my legs were going to give way. “And… You went to tell her that she was right…”

“I thought maybe you felt the same, especially after… But with you leaving so suddenly, it made it pretty clear that I had come to the wrong conclusion.” Harry’s gaze shifted away from my own, he clearly was feeling uncomfortable.

His admission made me view the last five years in a new light. His actions did match those of a scorned lover. In fact, it matched my own.

“You weren’t wrong,” I breathed out. I reached forward, my hand landing on his chest. Even through his jumper I could feel his heart beating erratically. 

He met my gaze once more and all I could see was that look - the one he held all those years ago. 

Without another second of hesitation, our lips crashed together. My hands immediately found their way into Harry’s hair, fingers curling around the tendrils as though to keep us locked in this place for eternity. I felt Harry’s own hands dig into my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. Heart to heart as we should be - something I never thought would happen again. Something that I hadn’t realised I had been longing for all this time.

Against my better judgment, I pulled away. Harry gave a small noise of protest which I smiled at. “Wait…” I said whilst trying to catch my breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions so easily when I saw you--”

“Don’t you dare apologise. We were both arses. I should’ve reached out, found out what was wrong.”

I captured his lips with my own again. “Agree to both be sorry then?” I spoke after pulling away.

He laughed softly, “Alright then.”

I rested my head against his chest, glad to have Harry’s arms around me. “I can’t believe we wasted five years…”

“Might’ve been for the better, you would not have enjoyed my long-haired phase in my second last year of uni.”

I looked up at him, both of our eyes crinkled with laughter. “And I suppose you wouldn’t have enjoyed me in my last year where I was determined to hit up every bar in London.”

I watched his expression drop ever so slightly. “Right, London.” He loosened his grip on me, pulling away. “I suppose you’re heading back there tomorrow?”

The reality of real life crashed down like a bucket of water had been tipped over me. How could I forget that Harry and I have crafted full lives in completely different cities.

“It’ll be hard to say goodbye to you knowing how we both feel now,” he said quietly.

I chewed my lip, “You know… I could extend my leave. Maybe until after New Years. I’m sure I could get some special considerations.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“We’re not fucking this up a second time.”

He grinned and wrapped me in his embrace once more, his lips making quick work to find my own.

“You know,” I pulled away.

His groan cut me off, “Stop bloody doing that.”

I shushed him with a laugh, “I was just going to say that in case my leave doesn’t get approved that we should make the most of the time we have left.” I looked fixedly over to the sofa.

“Fuck, I love the way you think.”

Without a second thought we tumbled over to the sofa, our legs becoming entangled, clothes discarded, and hands roaming - eager to find what had changed in the last five years. And as Harry peppered kisses down my torso and brought forth feelings so intense I hadn’t thought possible - I knew I wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Even if that meant quitting my job or moving halfway across a country. 

Harry and I. This was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i know christmas was like a month ago but i'm terrible at keeping to a schedule. only an epilogue after this!


End file.
